As the country approaches the 250th anniversary of the Revolution, Americans are increasingly divided over what they are celebrating. Some advance a triumphalist narrative of a providential nation, virtually perfect at its founding and rooted in a singular religious identity, while others, who see value in confronting the country’s struggles, are cast as at odds with the patriotic project.
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Fifty years ago, during the 1976 bicentennial, many American religious communities wrestled with similar tensions. They celebrated, but they also reflected, confessed and organized, treating the bicentennial less as an occasion for patriotic display than as an opportunity for democratic practice, grounded in diverse expressions of faith and lived out in families, congregations and communities. That moment offers no simple blueprint, but it points toward practices — cooperation across difference, moral self-examination and active participation — that remain essential now.
Religious freedom as a shared stewardship
At the national level, religious leaders made clear that the bicentennial could not be claimed by any single tradition. Initiatives like Project FORWARD ’76 (“Freedom of Religion Will Advance Real Democracy”) brought together Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Latter-day Saint and other groups in a shared endeavor. Their goal was not a unified religious interpretation of America but something more foundational: a democracy strengthened by the moral vision of people of faith and by the coexistence of many voices.
The structure of such efforts mattered. Rather than competing for cultural influence, religious groups cooperated. They exchanged resources, sponsored research and encouraged congregations to explore how religious liberty and democratic life are intertwined. Religious diversity was treated as a strength to learn from and safeguard, not a problem to solve.
For members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, this emphasis would have resonated deeply. From its earliest history, the church has emphasized both the importance of religious freedom and the reality that believers of many traditions share a common civic space. The Bicentennial era approach reinforced the principle that faith flourishes best when freedom is protected for all, and a nation is strengthened when its people strive to live their deepest values together.
Gratitude and repentance in the work of patriotism
Some of the most meaningful Bicentennial work of Project FORWARD ’76 happened in local congregations. Churches did not simply drape sanctuaries in flags. Many reinterpreted national symbols through a moral and theological lens.
In one Lutheran resource, “Stars, Stripes, and Crosses,” the American flag became a framework for reflection. The stars pointed to aspiration, the ideals of liberty and equality. The stripes represented suffering and contradiction, the ways those ideals had been tested or betrayed. The cross stood as a moral measure, reminding believers that no nation, however noble its founding, is beyond judgment.
This was neither spectacle nor cynicism. It was an effort to tell the truth. Patriotism meant loving one’s country enough to see it clearly and to work to improve it. That spirit shaped worship itself. Bicentennial services blended gratitude with introspection, patriotic hymns alongside prayers that named national failures like racism, inequality, exclusion and violence.
In doing so, faith communities practiced a form of moral speech linking faith to public responsibility. They affirmed that devotion to God does not require silence about injustice, and that love of country can include a call to repentance.
Remembering in ways that widen belonging
Congregations also turned to history as a lived, shared experience rather than a distant narrative. featured oral histories, archival work and intergenerational storytelling: Young people interviewed older members about migration, work, worship and community-building; families shared photographs and artifacts; “Do you remember?” evenings gathered neighbors to share memories.
These efforts connected individuals to a larger, generous story and invited them to see themselves within an ongoing national project shaped by religious commitments. They also strengthened relationships across generations and fostered belonging rooted in faith and community.
Importantly, these efforts did not simply reinforce exceptionalist narratives. Many congregations included Native American perspectives, inviting Indigenous speakers, integrating Native histories and confronting the consequences of colonization. The bicentennial became an occasion to ask how a nation founded on liberty could also be a site of dispossession.
This widened perspective did not weaken national identity. It made commemorations more honest, meaningful and demanding of people of faith.
Service as patriotic and covenant responsibility
For many religious communities, the most authentic way to mark the bicentennial was not ceremony but service. Congregations organized hunger walks, planted community gardens, supported food banks and engaged in tutoring programs, prison outreach and advocacy. Such efforts pushed people of faith to wrestle with harder questions about poverty, justice and what the nation’s ideals required in practice.
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In this context, voluntarism became more than a civic virtue; it was a religious obligation tied to national purpose. To celebrate the nation’s founding was to take responsibility for its unfinished work.
This sensibility resonates with Latter-day Saint traditions of service and ministering. Acts of care, whether organized through church programs or undertaken individually in emulation of Christ, link faith to public responsibility and reflect a vision of patriotism grounded in service rather than display.
Creating democracy together
Perhaps most strikingly, bicentennial programming treated democracy as something to be learned and practiced. Congregants of all ages and denominations studied their communities, listened to neighbors, engaged public officials, and contributed to local reform efforts.
Politics was not presented as distant or inherently corrupt, but as a domain where moral agency mattered — a place individuals could act on their values to serve the common good. Underlying this was a broader conviction that democracy depends on participation, on citizens willing to listen, learn, deliberate and act in alignment with their moral convictions.
Religious communities helped cultivate positive civic habits, serving as schools of moral and ethical citizenship where people practiced cooperation, developed empathy and linked principles with action.
A nation as shared work: Faith, humility and the more perfect union
Looking back, the bicentennial era approach contrasts with contemporary currents that more tightly link religious and national identity in exclusionary ways. Where earlier efforts stressed pluralism and honest reflection, today’s rhetoric can narrow belonging, dismiss critique and favor symbolic affirmation over lived engagement. These differences are not merely political; they reflect deeper questions about how faith relates to democracy.
In 1976, many religious communities saw their role as strengthening democratic life through dialogue, accountability and bridge-building — work requiring humility and openness to complexity. It also required a particular understanding of belonging. The nation was not a possession to defend but a project to shape, a shared endeavor inviting both gratitude and responsibility.
Recovering that approach does not mean returning to the 1970s. That era had its own limitations. But the habits it cultivated remain relevant. It showed that commemoration can be more than celebration. It can be a time for reflection, learning and recommitment.
It showed that patriotism can include critique, and that such critique — grounded in love and responsibility — can strengthen the nation. Moreover, it underscored that religious communities can play a vital role in democratic life by fostering participation, cooperation, moral clarity and care for others.
As the United States approaches another anniversary, the question before us is not simply how to celebrate. It is how to do so in ways that sustain a healthy democracy.
The bicentennial offers one answer. It calls us to turn memory into action, widen the circle of voices and measure our national life not only by our ideals but also by how faithfully we live them.
If we take that lesson seriously, celebration itself can become an act of faith — one that binds us more closely to one another and to the enduring work of building a more perfect union.
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